


The Old Ways in New Eyes

by AES



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Asphyxiation, BDSM, Butt Plugs, Consensual Kink, Consensual Underage Sex, Dehumanization, Explicit Consent, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Falling In Love, Height Differences, Humiliation, M/M, Master/Slave, Object Penetration, Objectification, Pain Kink, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sexual Slavery, Spanking, Submissive Character, Underage Sex, being thrown to the floor, boot licking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 12:38:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3447503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AES/pseuds/AES
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Asgardians rule over Midgard like they do with any other realm, and steer clear of their politics and business and so on. However, as humans are far more inferior to them than the other realms, the Asgardians placed a practice of sexual slavery within it to stick them in their place and took any humans they wished, to abuse and use in any way they wished. This practice has long since been changed over the generations, however, and humans <i>now</i> see it as an honor - not to everyone's fantasy - but many will present themselves and join slave-schools to be chosen by an Asgardian Master.</p><p>Howard Stark, once an owner of a huge company, lost his estate when his wife died suddenly and he became overwhelmed with debt. To erase this debt, he sells his son into a prestigious school to gain money and freedom from the financial burden that a child can be.</p><p>Tony is just turning sixteen when he is chosen for the first time, but he'd never expected it to be with someone from the Royal family, and he'd really never expected this God to be quite so obsessed with his consent.</p><p> </p><p>  <span class="small"> <b>Everything in the tags is completely consensual and discussed beforehand.</b></span></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue.

**Author's Note:**

> This will not be tagged as 'dubious' or 'non-consensual' as Loki refuses to do anything at all, unless he has Tony's full consent. In this unviverse, age-rules do not apply also, and there is no manipulation or coercion. 
> 
> However, if you still believe this fic should be tagged, it is not for you, and I respectfully ask that you do not comment on that fact.
> 
> The school, also, does not use force and the only thing that can be seen as bad is their mantra/slogan but that is explained further in. If anyone wants any other questions answered before giving this a shot, please don't hesitate to ask :)
> 
> Also, Tony is sixteen in this fic and Loki is an adult.
> 
> If you do not think my reason is good enough, I will respectfully ask that you do not read and comment, if that is the case. This is a warning for those it may trigger, but there is no sexual content that is without **consent** in this fic, regardless.

.

* * *

.

Today's dinner is sake teriyaki and they're actually given metal chopsticks to eat the meal with. Which is - trickier than it looks, but Tony's dorm has at least two Japanese men and one of them takes pity on his fumbling and teaches him how to hold them properly and pick things up with the sticks. He fails, still, though he does manage a few tries without dropping it immediately but does still grow impatient with his attempts to eventually; just stabbing at the fish with the ends instead and biting.

Carl, sitting opposite him, laughs at his face and one of the guards looks in - watching Tony with a raised eyebrow for a moment before turning away and sighing - which only sets Carl off even more.

"Shut up. I'm hungry and I really can't be bothered with the sticks." Still chewing, Tony reaches for his glass of apple juice. The others have the option of alcohol, but as he's the only one underage juice or water is the only choice, "And anyway, it's not like this is a skill I'll _need_ in life."

"You never know," Carl belches into his fist, causing two others near him to give him a look, "Your master might be into sounding." He chokes on his food at whatever expression must be on Tony's face at that, especially when he puts the chopsticks down slowly and eats with his fingers instead, "Sorry, dude. I didn't mean to put you off your food."

"Yeah whatever." He finishes it anyway, scooping some of the sauce off when it the taste seems a little too strong and licking his fingers, heading for the door when he's done. The guard takes his plate and glass, placing it on the table beside him, "Can I go to the bathroom quick? I want to wash my hands."

"Curfew's in ten, so make it quick." He's led through, and directed but he barely manages to get round the corner before another guard wants to stop him.

"The curfew for tonight starts at _nine_ , no one should be out."

"I know, I'm just washing my hands. The guard by my dorm said I could." Giving him a long look for that anyway, wasting more time, the guard finally steps to the side, "Alright. But hurry it up, you've got an early morning tomorrow." To make the picture all the more perfect, he could have probably puffed out his chest a few times and shouted ' _I am an authoritative figure'_ after Tony's retreating back.

Tony ducks past him with a roll of his eyes, pushing the bathroom's door open with his hip and letting out a relaxed breath. He does crave the moments in this school where he can be on his own, no matter where that is, so he locks himself in a cubicle for a while; timing himself on his digital watch before pulling his trousers down and leaning forward. The door opens again a moment later, and a different cubicle slams shut.

This other guy seems to be in more of a rush, and they meet as they wash their hands, Tony drying his slowly while the other guy only wipes them on his trousers and practically runs out. His dorm must be further away, maybe.

Tony heads back, smiling at his dorm's guard when he arrives just in time, and stepping back inside. He switches on the bedside lamp before crawling into bed and pulling out his only photograph to stare at for a bit. Howard stares back at him, short-tempered and stern. Maria has a hand on his shoulder, smiling brightly as she looks down at him. If she'd had her way, he'd be in a real school right now - learning math and science, _gym_ even. It's rare for a slave to be _sold_ into this school, instead of actively paying for their application in, but it does happen and it's overlooked because of the so-called _honor_ of this all. Most are here willing, _wanting_ this, saving every last coin they have to join in. Tony's one of the 1% that doesn't really want to stand out and are entirely neutral to the whole 'honor' and sex aspect of this all.

The 1% that had been sold to the school to settle debt, to not be a financial burden on a single father who couldn't stand the sight of you anyway.

With a glare, he pinches the photo, ripping Howard off of it. He only gets to the centre of his face, however, before he stops, staring down at the tear. It's the only thing that he has that shows him what his father looks like, and does he really want to lose that? With a sigh, he places it back under his books again, pressing a kiss to his Mother's face before he lies back down.

"Goodnight Mom." She answers him in his imagination, and he settles after a while of rolling around to get comfortable, dreaming of robots chasing down every tightly-wound guard in this place until they agree to 'let their hair down', revealing flowing locks that had been hidden under their hats.

.

* * *

.

The dorm's woken by the alarm blaring through it's speakers, and Tony drags himself out of bed with a groan. His dorm is usually the first ones up, and when dressed, they line up outside the outer bathroom - waiting for their turn to go in. The guard blocks the door, however, until someone lets Tony in front. He's fifteen, more than two decades younger than the eldest in their group, and that means that many of them take to babying him and letting him get away with almost anything; even the guard. He hates the patronising, more than anything, but being the baby around here has a lot of benefits too. Namely getting the bathroom first.

He hops inside, taking the first cubicle while three others come inside after him to use the rest. Once freshed up and awake, teeth brushed and face washed, he heads over to his class' hall. Other dorms are starting to line up now too, knocking on doors when someone takes too long while those that aren't morning people just snap at everyone and clutch their towels to their chests. There are even some that are still zombie-like, wandering around blearily. Carl being one of them.

Tony laughs when he sees him, patting him on the back as he walks past and taking his seat at a desk while he waits for others in his class to arrive. He isn't the only young one around here, thank god, and there are eighteen and nineteen year olds too. But fifteen always seems to make people double back for another look, especially since he hasn't quite grown yet and still looks around twelve instead. He has a baby face, is shorter than most of the other men, and he can never tame his hair or style it well enough so he still looks boyish. His teacher _loves_ that, though, and says that it makes him unique compared to the other slaves. She hopes he'll keep it the older he gets, until he's the typical age to be chosen.

That's more of an incentive for him _not_ to, really, but she doesn't need to know that.

The classes are mixed around here, so there isn't more than two people from a dorm within them. It's a ploy to get them to mingle, to share and create new tricks and ideas while they learn the basics in class. When they'd had an exchange day, and had been paired with someone from of one the girl's dorms, Tony's partner Natasha had taught him that the ability to _surprise_ his Master is something that will really secure his position. She'd been with five Asgardians before, but when her teacher had come to the home to routinely check on her, she'd asked to come back each time.

"I got bored," She'd told Tony, shrugging, and he'd immediately wanted to know more.

While he sits there, stretching his legs out, more slaves start to trickle into the hall. Eventually, when they're all here, their teachers walk inside. They've never been given their names, and they aren't allowed to ask. All they can call them is 'ma'am' or 'sir' and refer to them as their personal teacher only. Tony's is a middle-aged woman, kind to an extent but very strict when she's in a mood too. She gestures that he stands and head for the corner when she arrives, and he pushes his chair back to follow her.

"Good morning, Tony."

He nods, "Good morning," She has a wide array of toys with her today, some wide, some long. They've never done penetration, usually saved for when they're chosen, and all he really knows is how to prepare himself and work through it but -

"Oh don't look so worried, Tony, it's not what you think. Now." She kicks over a chair, "Take a seat." He does as he's told, looking around the hall at the others. Kaz already has one of the toys down his throat, his head tilted up and his eyes shut. His teacher has a hand braced to catch should he gag and throw it out, but he's holding it down. Impressively, judging from the size of it - especially when Tony looks down at his own and sees it up close. "Are you nervous?"

"... little."

"That's alright, it's understandable. But you'll be used to the feeling soon. That's what these lessons are for, right?" He nods, digging his hands into his knee in both anticipation and nervousness, "Remember. 'Does it matter if _you_ feel good'?" It sounds parrotted, even to him, and that's probably because it is. It's the school's mantra, slogan even, and the teachers have to repeat it even if they don't believe it themselves.

He swallows, knowing the memorised answer and shaking his head, "No. Only if my Master does." - before taking a deep breath and letting her know that he's ready.

"Good. Now _relax_." A small, almost bullet-shaped toy, is lifted first. "Tilt your head back." He stares up at the ceiling, opening his mouth before he's asked to and feeling the plastic rub against his tongue when she pushes it inside. "Now hold onto the end, and keep pushing until your fingers touch your lips." He swallows again, taking a hold of the nib and pressing. He gags before it's even near his throat and takes it out, lowering his head for a moment, "Alright. Keep going until you've got it. Doesn't matter if you gag, but if you need to stop for a bit longer, let me know and I'll get you some water, alright?" He nods to his stomach, breathing deeply and tilting his head back again.

The toy - black in color and wider than three of his fingers - clacks against his teeth when he doesn't open his mouth wide enough so he tries again. It's after several attempts where he gags before he can hold it down as far as it can go.

" _Good_. Well done." She stands now, coming around behind him, "Now press your teeth around it to hold, and let go of the nib." He breathes in through his nose, taking his fingers off of it just before his mouth closes over it's end. It stays in his mouth and he gags again, forcing himself to swallow it down and holding himself still. He can do this. Everyone else can. " _There_ we go. Alright, now open your mouth again _. Slowly_." She carefully takes the toy out, cleaning it while he bows his head once it's gone; heaving. Water is given to him and he gulps until his throat feels a little less raw and he feels a little more ready for the next one.

"How many do we do for this lesson?" He wipes at his mouth, taking the tissue from the table to clean away any drool.

"Just the first three. We'll work on the larger ones the further we go in." He nods, tilting his head back when she lifts another. This one is longer than the black, pink now as well, and with ridges and a wider frame. It looks a lot more like a penis, if it didn't have a head that twisted and looks like an ant's body. She hands it to him, making sure he doesn't turn it on by accident, and waits patiently while he tries again with this one.

He gets it down further on the first try than he did with the smaller one, though, his throat working to accommodate now that he knows what to do, but he still gags when it brushes against the back of his throat and has to yank it out.

The third time, he has it in fully, and his teacher praises that progress with a surprising amount of smiling; for her, at least. She directs him to turn it on then, and it twists inside his mouth, making him gag all over again but he's okay with leaving it inside, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing as best he can.

The third toy looks more like an average dildo now, and when he manages to get it in, she adds, "In and out now. Try it slowly, first, and then get faster." He slides it out of his mouth like she'd said, forcing it back in, again and again until his arm grows tired and finally she lets him stop, "Alright. Go and have a break early, Tony, you've done really well today."

He gasps, nodding, drinking the rest of the water and leaving his seat. It's lunchtime soon anyway, so he heads for the canteen, rubbing the skin at his throat as he walks. He doesn't feel like chewing anything, or eating anything that's not too _hot_ hot, and all that really seems to be there that fits those requirements is soup. So he pours himself chicken soup from one of the pots, grabbing a mini ladle and sitting by the window. Some of the slaves are outside already, lying in the sun or reading. Two of them are fooling around by the bushes, and he rolls his eyes with a smile, scooping the soup into his mouth.

"Hi," He looks up, startled, quickly moving his bowl aside when another is placed beside it. His guest smiles at him, leaning back and drinking straight from his bowl, "I'm Clint. I'm guessing you're new?"

Tony scoffs, "I've been here for a year, actually." Clint raises an eyebrow, "I'm _fifteen_."

"Sorry kid, that doesn't make it much better," He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, "Couldn't you just explore yourself for a bit, before you got older?"

Tony smiles tightly, "I'm not here to explore. My dad sold me to the school when he lost his estate."

Clint's face falls immediately, and he looks shamed, "Oh shit. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not so bad, I actually like it here. It's better than living with him on my own, and I'm too young to likely be chosen anyway." Clint still looks slightly ashamed at his presumption, and Tony eventually takes pity on him, "What about you? You here to explore?"

"A little. The organisation I work for, they - well. They thought I could use a break, mind and body, and what better way than to literally be used? Shut down everything and just hang on for the ride." Tony frowns, "Well, obviously, I wouldn't want an _abusive_ one but that's rare nowadays anyway. Asgardians are becoming less violent the more time they spend on Earth, apparently, visiting or living among us."

"Yeah I know. There hasn't been a news report of a death or abuse case in _years_." Tony adds, "But that doesn't mean you're less likely to get someone that might abuse you."

"There probably still are some, yeah. But that's what this school's here for, right, to make you see the signs," He pauses, "I mean. If you ignore the stupid mantra, that is. Who came up with that anyway?"

"Asgardians."

"Right." He shrugs, finishing his soup in another drink from the bowl, "There's check-ups anyway, too, so. It's pretty safe."

"You could still be forced to tell the teacher that you're okay when they come, even if you're not," Tony points out.

"They can _try_." Tony frowns, "Jeez, kid, you'll never get chosen if you think they're all secretly monsters." What? So not what he's saying.

"It's - whatever." He stabs at his soup, sending drops splashing onto the table, "I'm too young anyway."

"Not really. We are all babies to them remember. Age doesn't matter to Asgardians." Yeah. He knows. "So cheer up, it'll happen one way or - " The alarm blares above them and they pause, looking at each other, "... or maybe sooner than you think."

Tony pushes out his bottom lip as he glares again, leaving the rest of his soup behind and wiping his hands with a tissue while they walk. They group in their dorms so he has to leave Clint and go to stand beside Carl, height order which leaves him at the front. There's a buzz of conversation already; they've never had one so early in the year before, and some of the newcomers stand on their toes, hoping that this is all because of _their_ presence here and that they were noticed.

Tony, alternatively, really want to slouch. Or at least, look around and show how bored he looks with this all. But, unfortunately, he's at the front and whoever comes through those doors may be able to see him. He has to make a good impression, for the sake of the school's reputation.

The head teacher, a elderly man, opens the door when they're all here and greets the Asgardian that steps inside. Many of the slaves' anticipation then rises when it's revealed to be a servant. A servant means rich, and _rich_ means more time to spend with their slave. It's what most of them want, why they're here, but a servant also means that the slave has already been pre-picked.

Most Asgardians come themselves and handpick from the groups. It's rare, special even, when one is pre-picked beforehand. It means that they're _greatly_ desired, and if they're returned, are more likely to be chosen numerous times afterward.

Whosoever is chosen will be the envy of everyone here. Tony almost feels sorry for them, to the extent that they'll probably bathe in that attention anyway. He sighs, good impressions no longer needed, and glances at Carl with a raised eyebrow. The servant murmurs something to the teacher, scanning over the miniature crowd, until Tony's dorm is pointed out.

The others practically deflate at that, bitter disappointment spilling through in waves, while Tony's group stands straighter and eager. With all eyes on them now, Tony makes more of an effort, watching as the servant makes it's way down the stairs. He looks nervous too, probably careful not to choose the wrong slave in case his boss decides to punish him for it, but before he even has to walk any closer, he hones in on Tony and smiles.

Oh. Oh God.

Tony darts his eyes toward the headteacher and he receives a nod of confirmation from him, looking proud almost, which should feel good did Tony not feel so weak in the knees for it. "Um." He freezes.

"Get _up_ , there." Carl hisses in his ear, nudging him and after that, his feet remember how to move. He walks toward the servant, bowing his head once in acknowledgement. A token is placed in his hand.

"You will be collected in the morn, tomorrow." Tony barely has enough strength in him to nod again, trying not to look as panicky as he feels. With that, the servant leaves, and the other dorms are showed out. Tony just stands there, still, his fist clenched around the token until Carl slams into him from behind with a shout.

"You _lucky_ bastard. Who'd you get?" Tony starts, blinking, and opening his hand slowly. The token's gold, heavy, with a symbol marked onto it.

"I - I don't know." He turns it over, and Carl looks now too, trying to decipher it before they're both towered over by Tony's teacher.

" _Congratulations_ , Tony." He smiles at her, the panic fading a little now when she looks down at him like that. After all, what's there to be scared about? He's trained, he knows more than enough, and if this guy is as rich as his token and servant suggests, he'll likely be in good hands. And if not, he'll just let her know in the check-up, "May I see?"

"Sure." He hands it over, watching her lift it into the light, glinting gold into her face before she then suddenly drops it, "Woah, what?" With a gasp, she quickly picks it up, dusting it off, "What's wrong? Is, is it _bad_?"

Carl straightens beside him, still frowning, and looking more than worried now, "Ma'am?"

"Oh my God, they've - they've _never_. None of the family has, not for _years_ now. Before even _I_ was born."

" _What?"_ He takes the token back, squinting at it, "I don't - "

"Your token, Tony." She clears her throat, breathing in, "Is very special. It means _mischief,_ " Still looking faintly shocked, she smiles again, and the flush on her cheeks seems to be more from excitement than anything else, "Oh one of _my_ students chosen. How could Mark have known about this and not told me?" She leaves them then, marching toward the headteacher, and she really must be flustered if she'd said his _name_.

"I don't get it. Is this bad or what?"

Carl laughs in his ear, which could mean anything really, but then he then practically hugs him and grins. He's happy for him, then. But why -  "Tony, that's the _mark of the Royal Family_ , dude!" Oh. Wait. What? Tony stares down at it again and now. Now he sees it. The tree, spreading it's branches and roots all around until it creates the circle that is the token. It's well-made, and funny that that should be the first thought that comes to mind, "Mischief means Loki. The second Prince. Tony, you got a _prince_. How are you not jumping to the sky over this?"

"Uh - shock. I guess." Which is true. Very true. He got a Prince. Someone royal, well-known, respectable. A _Prince_. A Prince who _pre-chose_ Tony.

The token digs into his palm when he clenches his hand around it. Oh wow. Okay.

"Um. Guess I - better go pack, huh?" He heads for his dorm on wobbly legs, not really sure how he feels, and not entirely sure if this is a dream either.

.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to warn that this fic takes submission to an extreme level. This literally a consensual walk-all-over-you-I-will-use-you-like-an-object sexual relationship.
> 
> Just to say.

.

* * *

.

Tony gently presses the only family photograph that he has between the pages of a book.

He really doesn't have as many belongings here with him, with most of his childhood possessions still gathering dust at his old home, but he does have quite a few clothes to gather; being allowed to go out and shop over the weekends. He packs everything in as neatly as he can, squashing it into the case that his teacher had given to him. The token sits on the desk beside him almost innocently and he glances at it every so often, really unsure of how he feels about this all. Conflicted is probably how he should describe it, but that doesn't seem to fit either.

Carl's sitting over the bed too, watching and adding comments about whatever Tony might forget, chewing on a stick of rock candy, "You want to take your toothpaste?" He asks with it still in his mouth.

"He's a prince, Carl, I doubt he has bad teeth." Carl just shrugs, but when Tony does think about it a little more, he knows that he'll be more comfortable with something that he's used to and grabs it from the plastic bag anyway; stuffing it in with his toothbrush and face-cloth. "Do you think I'll need my pajamas?" Carl gives him a look. "What? I don't know if I'll be sleeping naked or not. I've never done this before."

"Yeah me neither and I _still_ think it's a dumb question." Tony looks at him. "Just pack 'em, Tony. Trust me." He then glares for a moment before lifting them out from under his pillow and patting them into the section for clothes. His books go in next, then the bottle of lube that they'd all been given after their second lesson; along with a packet of condoms that he also puts inside. They're unopened, still sealed unlike the others in his dorm who've used some already, and he hides that from Carl when it's packed just in case he comments on that fact. "You've got about five minutes before the guy gets here to collect you, by the way."

"Yeah I _know_ , I know."

"Hey, no need to snap. It's not my fault you didn't do this last night like you were _supposed_ to."

Tony sighs, snapping the lid closed and zipping it up, "Whatever, man." He's right, he knows he's right, but that doesn't mean he has to admit it. Yesterday, he'd come to his room with the intent of packing and not rushing it the next day, but instead he'd just sat on his bed for almost an hour in a mild panic. He'd been chosen. Chosen. _Him_. He still doesn't really believe it, especially since it was a pre-picking and by a freaking _Prince_.

By the time the second alarm for the day had rung, for the renewal of classes, he'd not done anything productive at all but had lied and said that he'd packed everything and was ready for the next day. He'd then finished with all the toys in his deepthroating-lesson, throwing up just the once when he'd pushed one in a little too far and didn't take it out soon enough. He'd then been directed to thrust them in and out of his mouth, to work his throat around them and to breathe in through his nose. And when he'd finally picked up on how to relax his throat enough, his teacher had taken over with the pushing. She'd started slow, letting him get used to it, then thrusting faster and deeper - holding his head still with a hand on the back of his neck and informing him quite bluntly that his moaning was a lot better than most slaves and that he should keep at it. 

He hasn't blushed since he was twelve, but for some reason, her matter-of-factness had stirred one on.

By the time she'd stopped, the pace had been brutal and his throat had felt like it'd been rubbed with sandpaper from the inside. She'd then, weirdly enough, given him a hug and reminded him that he should know enough to recognise the signs of abuse and to _tell_ her if it happens when she checks in the next week. He'd nodded, coughing and gasping, and the lesson had ended when he'd needed more than one glass of water and a time-out.

The couple of hours after that, he'd had to recite the signs of what would count as abuse. This had all been erased by the stupid mantra, but he'd repeated his answer anyway, heading for a late dinner afterward before just collapsing on his bed to sleep.

And now, here he is, rushing around to make sure that he isn't late to the entrance to be picked up.

Fully packed finally, he tugs at the handle to lift the suitcase, pulling it by the wheels toward the dorm's door. Carl follows him there but as he won't be able to follow him completely out, this is probably where they say goodbye. It's abrupt, he knows, but he really hates goodbyes and who knows. He might be back next week anyway, and the school can be visited too if not.

When they stand by the door, though, Carl just juts a hand out for him to shake and Tony snorts out a laugh at the formality, shaking his head and taking it with his own before startling when it's only used to pull him into a hug. Carl pats his back twice, letting him go with a smile, "Good luck, Tony. Try not to enjoy yourself too much, though, okay? You know what the slogan says."

" _Carl"_ , the guard warns from behind the door, and as it echoes, most of the dorm laughs; the others rising to say and wave goodbye to Tony as he leaves too.

"Bye!" He calls when the door opens and he backs out of it slowly, turning to face the guard before suddenly freezing. "Oh wait! Um. Can someone quickly grab the token for me?"

If possible, they all laugh harder, "Nice _start_ , Tony," Haru mutters as he heads to his bed and lifts it up, tossing it into his hands, "Woah. It's heavier than I thought."

"Yeah." Tony closes his fist around it again, giving them all a smile, and then the door's shut and they're gone. He sighs softly, clearing his throat in case he sounds wet, and spinning around, "So," He looks up at the guard, getting a raised eyebrow in return, "You going to say anything too?"

He's given a long look. "No." The guard then straightens, pointing, "A senior slave will take you to the entrance." Tony turns to follow his gaze, but by the time he turns back around it's too late to stop the hand that reaches for him and ruffles his hair. He ducks, glaring, but the guard just looks ahead and smirks.

"Very funny, jackass." He turns around again, then, lugging the case behind him and rounding the corner toward the main hall. Clint, that _is_ his name right?, is the one waiting for him, "Hey. What are you doing here?"

"Being your chaperone, what do you think?" Tony stops, looking him over, "Something wrong?"

"No, I just - I was told a senior slave would take me. You told me that you just got here, yesterday, so I assumed ... "

Clint smiles, pushing himself off the wall and taking the handle of Tony's case, "I volunteered for this. _Plus_ , this isn't my first time as a slave. I'm just not full time but I've had a lot more lessons than you for a _lot_ more years." Oh. "You coming? Don't want to be late."

Tony urges his feet on, holding the token in both hands now that his other is free, "Why volunteer?"

"I wanted to talk to you," They round another corner. It's too early in the morning for anyone else to be up so the roll of the wheels on the ground sounds far too loud in the silence, "Well. To check if you were okay, I mean." Tony raises an eyebrow, "You told me that you didn't think you had a chance with getting chosen yesterday, remember? And you also pretty much implied that you thought all Asgardians were monsters that would abuse you, so when you were chosen I've gotta - "

"Woah wait a minute, _wait."_ Clint frowns. "Completely misunderstood what I was saying, dude, seriously. Don't worry about it."

"It's kind of my job." Well that sounds interesting.

"Yes. Fine. I didn't want to be chosen, not really, but this is _kinda_ special and I'm not stupid enough to throw it back in a Prince's face. Also, I _am_ willing to give Asgardians the benefit of the doubt, so I don't think they're all _monsters_ , I was just pointing out scenarios where abuse could still happen. Hypothetically." Clint looks down at him as they walk, "Really. I'm not walking into this with hidden dread. Well actually, okay, I am a little. But I'm also kind of excited for some reason, and nervous as hell, and I even _waxed_ for this, in areas I've never - "

"Okay, I got it, _please_ don't finish that." Tony beams, making him at him huff in amusement, "Fine. I'll - I can accept that. I just - you know. Wanted to make sure."

Tony sobers at that. "Yeah, I know." They arrive at the main doors, stopping, "Thanks. I, I do appreciate it." He's patted on the shoulder, and the door opens when they stop by it. "Really."

"Good. It's always nice to know that people are looking out for you, right." Tony just smiles, softening it to show his gratitude and taking his case back as he steps outside, turning around to wave goodbye when Clint backs into the building again. And then he's alone, in the sun, with two guards standing stoic either side.

Right. So what now?

Letting the handle go, he lets the suitcase stand on it's own, rolling the token between his fingers and looking out at the road. Humans drive past on their way to work, some walking their kids to school, or walking their dogs. A single Asgardian sits on a bench in the corner, reading from a book that looks bigger than Tony's entire torso. It's a little mundane, and his whole situation feels far more surreal the longer he looks out at it all. So to distract himself, he bounces on his feet as he waits instead, looking down at his watch for the time and counting backwards.

He's just glanced down a fourth time to check and literally as _soon_ as the minute hand touches 08:10, a black car pulls up in front of the school.

Tony blinks in surprise. A _car_ _?_ Really? He knows that some Asgardians are really well-accustomed to life on Earth but he hadn't expected a prince to follow their example. Or maybe they're following his, actually. That makes more sense.

The backdoor opens at the push of a button from the servant. It's empty. He relaxes a little at that, for reasons he doesn't want to think about, and takes a step forward. It's just here to escort him then. Good.

He pulls the suitcase closer and the servant leaves the car to lift it into the trunk for him, shutting the door when he's sitting inside. God, it's been so long since he's been in a real car like this. Most of his travel is either on the trains with a group or on the bus. When his dad had still had the estate, cars like this were everyday necessities, but now it's almost rarer than a human owning gold. He hopes that the Prince has more, because he actually really does miss them.

Once he's buckled in, the car pulls out and he rolls down the window to stare at the building as they drive away. His dorm's group is at the window, waving again, and he waves back with a smile. They turn into another road after a moment and the school's gone from his vision. A finality.

Instead of feeling like he needs to wallow over it, however, he decides to look out at all that's around him and try to relax.

Other buildings, companies, and areas that he's never been in before pass him by as they drive on and he settles over the leather, staring out the window. The token is pocketed in his shirt's breast, a solid weight and a reminder of where he's going, but he's easily more interested in everything else outside than any of his current worries

An Asgardian woman rides a horse beside them for a while, on the pavement, matching their speed easily which just reminds him of the way a car is measured. _Horsepower_. Huh. He smiles at her, ignoring it when it's not returned and watching her horse instead.

She pulls into a parking lot, though, tying her horse's reins to one of the stands, and they leave her behind when the traffic light blinks green.

The car seems to drive on forever, only stopping the once when Tony knocks on the window tentatively and says that he's hungry. He's given McDonalds when they pass a drive-through, and he eats as they go, packing all the mess into the bag and throwing it into a trash can when they stop beside one in more traffic. The sky starts to grow dark just as he begins to notice that the houses around them now are much bigger than those around the school, and more similar to ones that he grew up in. Huge and extravagant. Mansions, some of them.

And they're _gorgeous_.

Eventually, the more they drive, the more he starts to nod off in the back, leaning against the seat and lolling his head over it to get comfortable. He must have actually slept, though, because he starts awake to the sound of the engine cutting off.

Yawning, he slowly sits up as the servant gets out to open the trunk for his case and quickly checks his pocket for the token when he suddenly worries that it had fallen out whilst he'd been sleeping. It's still there, though, thank God. A heavy weight in his pocket all over again, only now it feels so much more prominent because, _god_ , they're here. They've arrived.

The door is opened for him and he steps out, following the servant wordlessly. They're parked on gravel, on a paved driveway that is at _least_ a mile away from what seems to be the gate at the front. There's grass surrounding them in one of the biggest yards that he's seen too. Bigger than even his dad's old one. Loki's loaded, clearly, which is pretty obvious given his status, but still.

"This way, please," They walk toward the double doors at the entrance, lit by lamps now that it's night, and the servant knocks once. The door opens after a second and he gestures that Tony go in first, and _wow_ , he isn't ashamed to stare around in awe as he does.

The place is stunning. It's Victorian looking from the outside, grand and elegant, but the interior is a mixture of modern and archaic. There are paintings hanging on the walls and a smooth, spiral staircase leading to the second floors hallway, but there's also a television set and electric lighting to an impressive level.

The servant passes him when he looks around, lifting the suitcase and taking it up the stairs, "Your room is the third to the left. You are free to explore the house whenever and however you wish. I have also been told to inform you that your Master will be home in the afternoon tomorrow." So he isn't here right now, then. Okay.

After the servant loses the case, he steps into a room just by the door and leaves. There aren't any others around that he can see, and the house is large enough to warrant some more, so he assumes that this is just being borrowed for the time being. As it's night, though, he figures he'll save exploring for the morning after and heads upstairs. He does walk as slowly as possible, regardless, taking in what he can as he goes.

The house, _mansion_ , is beautiful. The floor's are either carpeted or laminated, the ceiling white with tiny golden bulbs embedded inside to light the way. And his _room_ , holy shit, the room he's been put in is breathtaking. The window alone takes up the entire wall, with a button beside it to electronically whir the shutters down for privacy, and it opens out to an amazing view of the field behind. There's also a pool below that he can see, square-shaped and glistening in the night.

He stares for a moment, giddy at this all, before pressing the button for the shutters and turning away. There's an en-suite, which is a relief compared to the many times that he's spent in a cubicle at the school, and the tub itself is so much bigger than his old room. It's marble, cream colored and _deep_. There's also a mirror by the sink, tall and low enough for him to look into himself, from where he currently stands at 5"4.

The bed, circular in shape, has a _canopy_ and poles to hold flimsy curtains around it. He feels like royalty when he sits on it for the first time, and then guesses that maybe that's the point. He opens his suitcase, then, not sure whether he should fully unpack or not, but he feels too exhausted and groggy from the car trip to really do anything else anyway. So he only takes the pyjamas out and undresses, packing it all into a corner when he's done and curling under the sheets.

His skin tingles as he lies there, staring up at the roof of the bed, and he can't quite hold back the excitement of sleeping in a place like this. It reminds him so much of home, if even a little _more_ than the Stark's mansion had been too, and it feels so good to sleep in luxury again.

The blanket is smooth against his skin, his pyjamas being only a short sleeved shirt and shorts, and he rolls around beneath it for a while just for the hell of it. It's then that he remembers that he hadn't turned off the lights and that there isn't a switch near enough for him to not get out of bed to do so. Hm. Poor planning, he muses when he eventually hauls himself back out of the bed to find the switch. Once it's off, he pads back carefully, settling under it again until he's comfortable.

And after calming himself down, he falls asleep in just under an hour.

.

* * *

.

The servant wakes him in the morning by knocking far, far too loudly.

He wakes slowly, confused for a couple of minutes before remembering where he is and staring about the room like a newborn lamb. At another knock however, he winces and practically flies out of bed, hoping that he hasn't overslept by too much. The sun is up already as far as he can tell, and he dashes past the window into the bathroom to quickly try and tame his hair and gargle some water. He takes out a mint from his suitcase too, and chews it as he puts on some proper pants as fast as he can, before opening the door.

The servant looks down at him impassively, "Your breakfast." Tony blinks, looking down at the tray that's presented to him, and taking it carefully. It's warm under his fingers and covered to seal that warmth in. "You may eat it wherever you wish."

"Oh. Um." Tony clears his throat, smiling, "Thanks."

He's nodded at, "Your Master will be here at noon." And then the servant takes a step back, "Is there anything you wish for me to do?"

This is so weird. "No, that's - no, it's okay, thanks. I'm fine." Another slow nod, and the guy turns to leave. Tony shuts the door, placing the plate on a polished table just beside it and turning to the bed. Ingrained habits given to him from the school niggle at his mind and he immediately starts to make the bed, sweeping the sheets until it looks the same as it had last night and pressing the button for the shutters. The pool outside looks even better in the day and he really hopes that he's allowed to use it. He hasn't swum in a _decade_.

When everything is a lot tidier, he finally lifts the metal covering that's over the tray and peers down at the food. There's a small glass of orange juice, a fried egg, and some meat that tastes like turkey on the side. It's a nice spread, and it tastes as good as it looks.

When he's done, he washes his face, taking out the face-cloth and his toothpaste and toothbrush to completely ready himself for the morning. Seeing as he's meeting the Prince today, Loki, his _Master_ , he embarrassingly spends over an hour looking at himself in the mirror and combing his hair. He then spends two hours afterward putting on, changing, and choosing clothes to wear for this first meeting.

Eventually, he decides to go with smart-casual and pulls on a pair of black, not-quite-skinny jeans, and a buttoned baby pink shirt. He then checks everything over twice, discovering a full-length mirror inside the wardrobe which is _wow_ , huge. Just like everything else around here. Just like his Master is likely to be too. He pats at the hem of his shirt in nerves, debating on whether to tuck it in or not, and in the end he just leaves it as it is and heads downstairs.

The splice between archaic and modern in this place really has been well-done, and he admires everything about it while wandering through. From the statues and busts in the corners to the massive television that's surrounded by soft white sofas. He hadn't expected to see one realy, because what do Asgardians even _watch_. _Take me out to Asgard?_ Or is it just there for porn?

He runs his fingers down it's edge as he looks; impressed. It's black, sleek, and he suddenly really wants to jump down onto the sofa and relive his childhood with cartoons, but he also really wants to look around a bit more too. The thought of going outside beats the TV, and he practically skips around to the pool, sitting over it's edge and dipping his feet in for a bit. It's refreshing, the water just the right temperature, and he sighs with his head tilted to the sun before reluctantly heading back inside to look around the kitchen too.

The counters inside are wood he notices, but they've been topped with grained marble to cover that fact. There's a chandelier above it which gives it an almost homely look. He'd half expected a fireplace too but there isn't one within it. At least, not in the kitchen, because the living space definitely has one, along with a huge dining table topped with candelabras and white napkins. Loki is obviously very into the details in life and enjoys seeing things as they should be.

Speaking of, he's just about to lift and examine one of the napkins to see if the initials that are embroidered in black actually _are_ _L_ _.O._ , when he's jumps in surprise at the echo of a grandfather clock somewhere in the mansion. It rings thirteen times. One O'clock then. Afternoon. Has he really been looking around for so long? He honestly feels like he'd just had his breakfast ten minutes ago.

Setting the napkin down, he leaves the living space and intends on going back upstairs to look around there too but the front door opens before he can. Last night, he hadn't put much thought into the way that it had opened itself, but from this angle it kind of looks a little freaky. Haunted almost. He stops, turning to see if it's the servant again, but instead another man steps inside. He's wearing Asgardian-typical armour, green and black in color and has hair that stops just by his collarbone. He's tall, taller than the servant, and has the palest skin that Tony's ever seen.

It only takes a second for him to take this in and by that time, the man has looked up and locked onto him. And as soon as Tony meets his gaze, he finds himself frowning in recognition and blurts that out before he can stop himself, "Hey. Hey I _know_ you."

Loki, because it _has_ to be Loki, only smiles.

.

* * *

 

.

He had just joined the school when he'd met Loki. Loki who hadn't introduced himself back then so he'd no _idea_. He'd been fourteen and had still had a lot to learn if he quotes his teacher on that. Especially about respect.

As he'd gotten used to lessons and so on, however, she'd decided that his attitude added to his charm and encouraged it whenever the opportunity rose. She'd still ribbed him out for _this_ however, and now he knows why.

It had been his third choosing, and he'd been late to the hall. He'd actually considered not going at all because showing up late is so much worse, but he'd still been running toward it anyway and had collided right into an Asgardian walking into the building. He was unaccompanied, and from his raised eyebrows, Tony knew that he had guessed just how new he was to the school; taking in his height, how young he'd looked to him, and the rush that he'd been in.

"Sorry - !" He'd panted, trying to ease past but Loki had just stood there, giving him a long, unimpressed look, "What?" And then he'd just looked surprised at Tony's snap, "Uh, could you move, please?" Still nothing. "Sometime today, at least. Or ... are we just going to stand around waiting for the paddles and punishment?"

Loki had chuckled then, "Well. You sound like you'd like something more. It _would_ get rid of some of that bottled frustration." Outside of the school, Tony would probably have labelled that as harassment and punched him for good measure, however stupid that would have been. _In_ the school, though, he'd known how accepted that talk was around it's halls. It was used to judge who wanted who and who was into what.

So. Naturally. He'd set a challenge, "Honey. You couldn't hit my standards if you even _tried_."

Loki had smirked slowly, the grin working it's way across his face, and even now, Tony recalls how unimpressed he'd been, "I'll take that bet." Tony had scoffed, like an idiot, trying to get past again, "But maybe when you're more learned."

"I'll try not to be too bored when that time comes." And then, despite what _should_ have been his response, Loki had laughed.

"Oh, I'll see you entertained enough. At my feet, that is." Now, embarrassingly, Tony remembers feeling his legs tighten together as he'd stood there and listened to that, but outwardly he'd only glared; _thankfully_.

"I don't doubt that. I just doubt you making it memorable enough for me to want to stay." And then he'd turned his back on the guy and walked back to his room. He hadn't wanted to be in the choosing while Loki had been in the building, sure that he would be picked if he saw him after that conversation, but nothing had happened anyway. Loki had apparently not chosen anyone at all, though he hadn't even known that it was _Loki_ back then, just some guy who thought he was something special. And now he knows why.

Because he is something special. Because he's a Prince, a prince of fucking _Asgard_ , and he hadn't chosen anyone that year ago because he'd already picked Tony after one conversation and a challenge. Oh _perfect_.

Tony stares at him from across the floor, watching as Loki shuts the door behind him and removes his outer armor to hang it on the hooks by the umbrella stand. He can't quite stop his mouth from running, though, no matter how much he wants it to shut up right now, "Did you honestly choose me because of that dumb line I gave you about _standards?"_

"It's nice to see your personality has not changed." Tony glares, folding his arms across his chest, "And no. Not quite. Though I do keep my word, and I _do_ intend on making this memorable for you." Tony's glare just intensifies, and he doesn't budge when Loki moves past him to go to the stairs, "However _now,_ I am tired and slightly sick from travelling. I only returned to Midgard a few minutes ago to stay here."

Stay? "So - wait. We're not going to Asgard?"

Loki pauses on the stairs, "If you would want to, maybe in the future. If you are still _with_ me, that is." He hums, rolling his shoulders back, "But for now, my home here should do. I thought that getting used to me being your Master would be too much of a change to suddenly place you in an entirely different realm as well."

Oh. Tony looks at him, slowly lowering his arms. Well that was nice of him. " ... Oh. thanks, then. For that."

Loki only nods, sliding his gaze over Tony for a moment, before continuing up the stairs, "The kitchen is well stocked, you can make whatever you want to eat while I sleep for a bit." Tony turns to look at the door, biting his lip. Of all meetings, he hadn't expected it to be so casual. "I intend to wake at 5. Come to my room then and we can discuss how we will do this." Alright. So that's more like his imagination.

"Sure." Nodding to himself and whispering his affirmation, Tony heads for the kitchen for a second time to make himself something to eat, mulling over this all as he does.

 _So_. So Loki had chosen him almost a year ago but he'd waited until Tony had learnt more at the school. Why? So he isn't an inexperienced baby when taken to his home?

He sighs to himself, pulling out bread and salami and mayonnaise to make a quick-and-easy sandwich. He still is, though. Seen as a baby, that is. He looks young, he's small for his age, and the only difference a year has been is the numerous classes that he's taken since. Guess age really doesn't matter to Asgardians, if any human age is young for them anyway. Loki's probably in his hundreds, so what does Tony's age matter to him?

 _Come to his room at 5 to discuss this_. To discuss what, then? How far on his _knees_ he has to go?

He rolls his eyes, biting into the meat and sitting down on the stool by the counter. Despite himself, however, he knows how he feels about these sort of things. He knows that he likes being submissive, has known it since the third lesson that he'd had at the school, with how warm he'd felt when the teacher had described the ' _old ways_ ' to them all - ways which are no longer used due to the harm that it had caused the slaves - and he's well aware of how much he likes the feeling that it gives him.

He hadn't pushed himself to be chosen for a lot of reasons but one of them is that it brings out this side in him. He's been told that he's ridiculous, that it's an honor to be chosen, that being submissive is not a bad thing at all. And yet, his father's words about the practice echo in his ears still. Coming from the man who had eventually sold his son to one, it doesn't hold much ground, but it still sits in his brain and eats away occasionally.

He swallows, biting his tongue accidentally on his next bite, and sitting there for almost half an hour just thinking this all over. Well. If anything doesn't feel right, he can always call the school, right. Prince or no Prince.

Tony sighs, propping his cheek up on a fist. And besides, he's more than a little curious about how Loki intends on making this memorable too. That _had_ been the challenge he'd presented after all.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love hearing from my readers :)


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